Sausage
by Lamia of the Dark
Summary: Breakfast-stealing, arguments between boyfriends, and other shenanigans! Draco/Blaise. Crack. OOC. Rated M for sexual references, drug use.
1. Breakfast

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.**

**A/N: Blame alyssialui for this existing.**

~ Sausage ~

"Ugh, I can't stand this thing," Draco Malfoy whines, over a private breakfast with his boyfriend. "I don't know why I ever thought I wanted one in the first place."

"What, the sausage?" Blaise Zabini asks, with a pointed glance of the untouched link of breakfast meat on his companion's plate.

"Huh?" Draco looks down on his mostly-full plate and frowns. "I'm not talking about my breakfast, you idiot."

"Well, if you're not going to eat it..." Blaise puts forth.

"Stop talking about the sausage already!" Draco snaps, letting his frustration get the better of him. "Eating after other people is disgusting and _common,_ you plebe," he adds as Blaise proceeds to swipe the coveted sausage link from the other boy's plate.

Blaise isn't bothered by the insults. He knows from years of experience that part of being Draco's friend (and later, lover) is being insulted by the _far superior_ Malfoy heir.

Once he is finished finishing off his boyfriend's breakfast, Blaise says, "What were you trying to tell me about earlier, anyway?"

Draco, unsure whether to keep being peeved that Blaise wouldn't pay attention to him earlier or to be happy he was getting attention now, hesitates for a long moment before answering.

"This," he says, pulling back his sleeve in order to expose his Dark Mark.

"Oh, _that,"_ Blaise says with feigned indifference. "Well, there's not much you can do about it now you've got it, is there?"

At the lack of forthcoming sympathy, Draco lets out a low whine, much like a sound that a puppy would make.

Deciding that he has tormented his boyfriend enough, Blaise reaches out and picks up Draco's arm from where it rests on the table. He brings Draco's wrist to his mouth and lightly traces the outline of the snake with his tongue until the other boy is whining in an entirely different way. Oh, yes. It seems this morning is certain to end with a different kind of sausage-devouring as well.

~end~


	2. Lights

~ Sausage ~

Blaise Zabini comes home after a long, exhausting day at work. He hopes his high-strung high-maintenance boyfriend is in a good mood today, as he really doesn't want to have to deal with any whining or temper tantrums right now.

When he walks into the house, he sees that the lights are on in the living room, but there isn't anyone in the room. As he continues going from room to room he discovers that it appears that every single light in the house has been left on.

_Looks like I'm not going to have the peaceful evening I'd hoped for, after all_, he thinks dismally to himself as he continues to search the house for his wayward lover.

He finally finds him in the bedroom, hiding in the back of the closet - which was also lit up with balls of witchlight blazing in every corner, top and bottom.

"Draco, what in the name of all that is magic are you doing in there, and why are all the lights on?" Blaise growls, in no mood to cater to the whims of the Amazing Bouncing Ferret.

"I'm afraid of the dark," Draco whines, ignoring the dangerous mood that his boyfriend seems to be in.

"You're not two years old, what in the ever-living fu-" Blaise cuts himself off in the middle of his own sentence as a thought dawns on him. "Wait, are you high on something?"

"Noooooo," Draco responds in a whispery sing-song voice, looking up at his boyfriend with what he thinks is an innocent and adorably sweet puppy-eyed expression.

The manner in which the denial is delivered, paired with the flushed face and blown pupils, make it clear to Blaise that his assumption was indeed correct.

~end~


	3. Clothing

~ Sausage ~

"Draco, what are you wearing?" Blaise calls from the hallway outside the bedroom.

"Nothing!" Draco answers gleefully.

"WHAT?"

"Nothing! Zero clothes!"

"We're supposed to be going out to dinner," Blaise reminds his boyfriend. "So why are you naked?"

"I don't want to go! I don't like that restaurant you picked, and also clothes are stupid!"

Blaise lets out a string of curses so foul they might as well be named Herpo, then silently counts to ten before speaking to his boyfriend again.

"Are you high again?"

"Nope, just pedantic!"

"Then stop being a baby and put some clothes on! We can go to whatever restaurant you like." He adds under his breath, "And you mean _petulant,_ not _pedantic._ Those two words might sound alike, but their meanings are nothing alike."

"I don't want to go anywhere, though. So I pick nowhere!" Draco informs his boyfriend.

"Luckily for you, there IS a restaurant called Nowhere, so... put some clothes on."

"I still don't want to put any clothes on!"

"... are you SURE you're not high on anything?"

"Only my love for you, my daaaaaaarling!"

Alright, so he is definitely flying on something. That, or Draco is just in a really weird mood right now, which does happen sometimes without drugs... Oh, well.

Blaise remains silent for a few moments, unsure of what to do next.

"Okay," Draco calls out from the bedroom. "I will put on ONE clothing, and we can go out."

Doing some quick mental tabulations, Blaise replies, "You should be wearing at least seven pieces of clothing!"

"Including socks?"

"Including socks and shoes!"

"Does each sock and shoe count individually?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, I'm ready now!" Draco sings out as he emerges from the bedroom.

Upon seeing what he is wearing, however, Blaise sends him back into the room to change.

"No. I am not being seen in public with someone who is wearing a bedsheet toga. Put some real clothes on."

~end~


End file.
